


The Mourners

by SpellCleaver



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Start to Six of Crows AU, F/M, Gen, Grishaverse Big Bang, Grishaverse Big Bang 2020, Pre-Book 1: Six of Crows, mildly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver
Summary: When Kaz Brekker goes missing in the middle of Ketterdam, Inej and Jesper team up to look for him, and think about what he means to each of them along the way.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey & Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker & Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker & Jesper Fahey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2020





	The Mourners

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece for the 2020 Grishaverse Big Bang, and it was so much fun!! Many thanks to the Materialki artists I worked with; you can find their stunning work [here](https://dthieno.tumblr.com/post/628426766029127680/the-mourners-xhe-scowled-you-fuss-over-him) and [here!](https://mooni-mars.tumblr.com/post/628426970053722112/im-so-glad-i-got-yo-do-this-my-first-big-fandom)

Inej Ghafa was feeling relaxed, which then made her feel suspicious.

She'd been perched in the rafters of the Slat for several hours now, sharpening her knives with a sort of lazy precision, only half of her attention focused on monitoring what was going on below. Anika and Pim had started bickering with Bastian, and Big Bolliger was staring at them with an odd look on his face—she made a mental note to investigate that later. She knew Per Haskell was upstairs, reviewing the meticulously kept records Kaz had given him on the Dregs' profits; he'd want to talk to Kaz as soon as he got back. So did she.

The assassination of the Zemeni ambassador still unnerved her. She wanted to spin more theories about it with him, wanted to find a way it could make sense, because if this assassin could pull off something the _Wraith_ couldn't fathom... she didn't like that at all.

But Kaz wasn't back yet. He'd taken Jesper and Seeger to East Stave to scout out something Inej apparently hadn't been privy to, but that had been at noon. Now it was nearing eleven bells, and he wasn't back yet.

That was... strange.

She was not Kaz's keeper. But this, just as much as that assassination, unnerved her.

The Slat came alive whenever Kaz Brekker came home. She'd been crouched up here for hours, observing it all; she certainly hadn't missed his entrance.

Something must be wrong.

He'd grouch at her for fussing, but... something was clearly wrong.

She stood, nimble and balanced as a crow on its perch, and scampered along the beam, then along the wall, dropping nimbly onto the flight of stairs that led to the upper levels. Then she made a beeline for the ground floor, where Anika and Pim were still caught in their argument with Bastian. Anika's crop of yellow hair was easy to pick out.

They jumped out of their skins when Inej cleared her throat behind them.

"Do you know where Jesper is?" she asked lightly, but tactically. It wouldn't do to reveal that she was worried about Kaz, but Jesper? He might give her a few clues.

"Last I heard of him, he was going to the Crow Club," Pim said with a shrug, turning back to glare at Bastian. Inej nearly rolled her eyes; the Dregs could fight about the strangest things sometimes, and she was tempted to place a bet on how strange this disagreement would end up being as well. "Why?"

She shrugged. "He's my friend. And he owes me a game of cards."

"You'll find a game of cards at the Crow Club," Anika snorted, the corners of her lips curling upwards in a smirk. Inej ignored her and just pulled the hood of her jacket up, ducking out of the doors of the Slat to head on her way.

She kept her head low in the nighttime air, squinting against the dim yellow lights. The bridge over the canal, she crossed with speed, eyeing the cluster of people on the other side but walking straight forwards; they didn't look too dangerous, and if they tried anything she knew how to make them regret it.

But they didn't approach, and she continued on.

The Crow Club loomed; she gave a grim nod to the bouncers outside then ducked in. They knew her face well enough from whenever Kaz had asked her to run an errand and they didn't bother making a move to stop her.

She grimaced when she entered, squinting at the sudden change in light and noise. The music nearly blasted her off her feet, and the lamps on the walls and the glittering decor provided a stark contrast to the dull outside atmosphere no windows available to let in the night.

She glanced around. Most of the denizens were... not _well-dressed_ but not poorly dressed either, out for a night of fun and pouring _kruge_ into Kaz's coffers, while she was wearing the same dark clothes she always wore, but she passed unnoticed through the crowd anyway, like smoke.

Jesper... Jesper, where was—

She heard the spin of Makker's Wheel and glanced in that direction. He wasn't there. Instead, he was—

She heard raised voices.

Frowning, she headed for the toilets off the side where the back door onto an alley that wound its way to the canal stood open. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the... _alley..._ that wafted in, careful to shut the door that led back into the main room of the club, and then she heard the voices again.

"You think I had any choice about this, Rojakke? I didn't know Kaz was gonna let you go! I can't stop him."

Inej started forwards. That was definitely Jesper—he leaned against a wall a little was along, his lanky body as disproportionate as the ramshackle Slat. And there was Rojakke with him. She hesitated, then just stood there a little way away from them—close enough that they could see her if they looked, they were her friends and she wasn't about to eavesdrop on them without giving them a _fair_ shot at spotting her—and listened.

"He trusts you, you gotta tell him—"

" _Kaz_? Trust _me_?" Rojakke was grasping at straws there and they both knew it, because— "Kaz doesn't trust anyone."

Rojakke grunted. "Yeah, well. He's wrong. I ain't no cheat."

"You wanna say that to his face? Or his cane?"

"I _wasn't_." That was a lie, Inej was pretty sure, but she couldn't help but feel bad for him anyway. "I ain't no cheat, and I'll tell him myself—where is he?"

"I don't know."

"He was with you, now where'd he go?"

"Rojakke, I don't know, now get out of here and get another job."

"Where's the Wraith? I'm sure she'd—"

"I don't know," Inej said, stepping forwards. Rojakke damn near jumped out of his skin, and she was pretty sure she saw Jesper reach for his guns before he realised who it was. "That's why I was looking for you, Jesper; where's Kaz?"

"Why does everyone think I know that?" Jesper grumbled.

"Because you were with him last!"

"I—"

"Rojakke, you've been let go." Inej cast him a look. Weakness wouldn't help here, and he'd been close to taking out his gripe on Jesper with his fists. "Get out of here, bluster about Kaz isn't gonna help you."

"I ain't got paid for my last shift yet!"

"And you're not gonna get paid if you've been skimming."

"So what, Brekker kicks me out without having the guts to come do it himself? Sends a little girl and a gunslinger to do it instead?"

"Kaz didn't send Inej—"

"Yes," Inej said flatly, slipping her hand into her pocket. Her brass knuckles fit snugly around her fingers. "Get out, Rojakke."

Rojakke reached for her, scowling fiercely. "I ain't leaving until I get what I'm owed, from Brekker or from—"

She struck him in the cheek. Once, twice. He staggered back.

"Rojakke..." Jesper said.

Rojakke ignored him, staring at Inej. "I thought we was friendly!"

Inej ignored that. 

"You're a great dealer, Rojakke, you can get a job at any gambling den on East Stave. How about you just get out of here before Kaz comes looking to settle this debt himself, instead of sending a little girl and a gunslinger to do it, hmm?"

Rojakke scowled even more fiercely. She met his eye solidly; the only sound was the rhythmic lapping of the water against the nearby canal.

Finally, without a word, he left.

* * *

Inej led Jesper to an unused private gambling parlour before sitting him down in the dealer's chair. She didn't take one of the five seats around the table; instead she perched across two of the armrests, one boot planted firmly on the floor, the other perched at her knee.

"So?" Jesper raised an eyebrow at her, studying her. He could never tell much about her from her expressions, she rarely gave anything away, but something about the tension in her posture, her shoulders, her face, told him she was worried. "I appreciate the help with Rojakke, but what's this about?"

"You were with Kaz earlier. Where did he go? It's nearly twelve bells and he hasn't come back to the Slat since noon." She fixed her eyes on him: right now, she seemed so tense and taut that it was hard to imagine anyone ever not being able to notice her, but the shock she'd given him in the alley was proof enough of just how easy it was for her to vanish. Sometimes, Jesper, wondered if she genuinely was part-wraith after all.

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair, his left leg bouncing where he sat. 

"Hell if I know. He just dumped me here, told me to let Rojakke go, 'cause he'd been skimming or something, then took off into the night." He tapped at his knee. "You don't know where he is? You know everything in this city."

Inej snorted. 

"I wish." Jesper couldn't but notice as her fingers ghosted across her forearm, the mangled scar there, but didn't dwell on it. "But no, I don't know. And I don't like it."

"Because Kaz always tells you everything?"

"As if. I usually tell him most things, and I get nothing back. But it's not like him to take off into the night like this."

Jesper raised an eyebrow.

Inej rolled her eyes, a short laugh escaping her. 

"Not for so long," she amended. "Not after he's spent so much time on some mysterious task with you. Did anything strange happen at... wherever you were, today? If he was distracted..."

"You think Kaz got _jumped_?" He shook his head. "You're fussing, Inej."

She wrinkled her nose.

"No." She slid off the chairs and back onto the floor. She didn't pace, what she did was more graceful than that, but— yeah, no, she was pacing gracefully. "This is odd. Especially with the murder of that Zemeni ambassador."

"No one who goes after an ambassador is gonna go after _Kaz_."

She gave him a look.

"What were you two even doing? I don't understand why Kaz is still being so secretive about it."

Jesper debated telling her for a few seconds. If Kaz hadn't already told her—and he told his Wraith everything—then he probably didn't want it shared. But he also probably didn't want Inej up and fussing about him all night, which would just harm his reputation.

"We were spying on the building works for the Kaelish Prince," he said easily. "Kaz is pissed off about something, he's intent on Pekka Rollins. There's no way he suddenly got the money to buy that building and start working on it, not from what we know about the Lions' coffers. Kaz wanted to check it out, see what Pekka's hiding."

Inej narrowed her eyes. "You were _spying_ on _Pekka Rollins_?"

Right, he thought bitterly. That was usually her area of expertise. 

"Nah. Just scouting the place around. You know Pekka's got good security; he probably doesn't want to send you in unless he knows there's something worth investigating. Doesn't want to risk you like that."

She snorted, glancing away.

"I could handle it."

Jesper winced. 

"Look, I'm sure it's not that Kaz doesn't trust you."

It came out more bitter than he'd intended, and Inej stopped her pacing to glance at him. Good; at this rate, he thought as he bounced his leg some more, they were both going to wear out the gaudily patterned carpet.

"Kaz doesn't trust anyone," she said softly, repeating back what he'd said to Rojakke. How long had she been standing listening to that conversation, anyway?

He sank back in the chair with a slight sigh. 

"I'm sure he'll be back soon, then you can interrogate him on wherever he's gone to your heart's content," he offered.

She took it as the joke it was, and smiled. 

"He'd sooner break my arm with that cane of his."

"Nah." He kicked his legs up and got to his feet, heading for the door. "Then he'd have to wait for you to heal before you could spider again, and he's too impatient for that."

"Thank you," she said abruptly, just after he opened the door and the noise crashed in. "Come back to the Slat with me?"

Jesper glanced back at the tables, at Makker's Wheel, then to Inej, and realised that had not been a question.

"Sure," he said, and slung an arm around her shoulders. She was smaller than him, so it was easy; it was also easy to feel the way she tensed up momentarily, until he relaxed his grip and she leaned into him properly.

They walked back like that, the song of the canal the only sound.

* * *

The next morning came, and Inej woke to the sound of Per Haskell's fury. Kaz was not yet back.

He was spitting, shouting something at Anika or Pim or someone, and Inej was fairly sure he'd be shouting for her next; who else would know where Dirtyhands had gone than the Wraith who kept his secrets?

But she didn't know where he was.

And that meant, she thought grimly, counting her blades where they laid tucked against her skin— _Sankta Alina, Sankt Petyr, Sankta Lizabeta_ —she had to go and look for him herself.

The first plan of action she ought to take was to go to the Kaelish Prince herself, and scout out what had happened. That was the last place he'd been reliably, other than a brief visit to the Crow Club and disappearing, and... well, Inej would be lying if Kaz didn't always seem to have a vendetta against Pekka Rollins. From time to time he'd get a vicious look in his eye; he'd say nothing but he'd stare into the distance, hand tightening on his cane and mouth tightening in a way that made the harsh lines on his face even more severe, eyes narrowed minutely. It was a tiny expression that she doubted most people would pick up on, but he had been the one to teach her to _notice things_. He couldn't give her a knife then expect her not to use it.

So, by all realms of logic... the Kaelish Prince was where she'd be headed. To investigate Pekka Rollins more, and therefore investigate what by all the _Saints_ Kaz was up to.

But she didn't. Kaz would not have returned there—she knew that. She'd go there as a desperate measure, but if Kaz had merely been on a night stakeout mission to watch a place, he would've told someone.

_He would've told me._

Instead, when she climbed out of the tiny window of her tiny, ratty room and vaulted over ramshackle rooftops, she headed west—towards West Stave. It was morning, there would be a fresh wave of pigeons flowing in from arriving ships, ready to be plucked and ushered into various dens of iniquity, and wherever profit was being made, Kaz was right around the corner.

She clambered over the rooftops, just enjoying the way the crows swooped overhead and the early morning sunlight played against the still-dewy cobblestones. They distracted her from her worry.

She shouldn't be worrying. Kaz knew what he was doing. Kaz didn't need her to, as Jesper had so eloquently put it, _fuss_.

But she worried anyway. Something was wrong.

Was she just hurt he hadn't told her? she wondered as she shimmied down a drainpipe and landed in the street, striding through clouds of tourists like a shadow. She passed the White Rose, saw Nina Zenik striding towards it. When she caught her eye, Nina gave her a flirtatious wave and Inej returned the gesture, smiling exasperatedly.

Somewhat buoyed by that, she continued on, but she had to continue thinking—was she just hurt that _she didn't know_? The fact that she didn't know shouldn't be unusual. She hadn't known Kaz had had dirt on those guards at the standoff a few nights ago, she hadn't known he'd be able to look Geels in the eye like that and win, and she hadn't known he had dirt on Big Bolliger. Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason, but he always had one—it just so happened that none of the rest of the poor suckers who shared this city with him happened to have any clue what it was.

She ducked down West Stave, ran along Goedmedbridge, then onto the other side. Beneath her on the canal, a boat full of flowers punted past; she could smell wild geraniums, flamboyant roses, orange lilies...

Inej appreciated flowers, but few with sweet, notable scents were hardy enough to be grown in Ketterdam. The artificial perfumes slathered on them stung her nose, and she turned away.

Perhaps it was a good thing there was no boy in this city who would buy her flowers.

She ducked into the crowds and just... observed this time, hanging around the Anvil in particular, watching people come and go. Cobbet, Tante Heleen's favoured bruiser, was stationed outside the Menagerie as usual, and Inej ducked her head to avoid meeting his gaze before she melted back into the shadows. She climbed back onto the rooftops and watched from there.

Kaz wasn't anywhere around here; she'd know the distinctive _tap-tap-tap_ of his cane anywhere. But she still let herself scan the crowd, and listen closely at every door before she took off back towards the White Rose again, hopping back down—again—to street level. Perhaps, if Nina didn't have a client, she could talk to her; she served some of the richest and most well-connected men in the city, soothing their pains and anguishes, and it was perfectly plausible that she'd have heard something during those sessions. There was nothing entitled men liked doing more than talking.

She was heading back over the canal when someone grabbed her wrist.

She didn't cry out. She just instinctively drove her elbow back to wind them, stomping on the arch of their foot, sliding Sankta Lizabeta out from her sleeve to jag against his jugular—

And Cobbet wrapped his massive hand around her throat. Tight enough that she couldn't escape. Tight enough that it sent shivers and shudders racking through her, terrified. She could breathe, but... it was tight enough that he could change that in a heartbeat.

The edge of her blade caressed his throat in return; she was at eye level with the thin stream of dark blood that dribbled down onto his collar from the oh-so-shallow cut.

"Tante Heleen saw you spying on us, little lynx. You trying to take our secrets back to Brekker? You belong with her."

Inej could barely move her jaw, but she got the dexterity to spit, "No secrets worth stealing from a prissy, pompous peacock."

He tightened his grip and she gasped, choking, being shoved up against the wall of Goedmedbridge. Tourists and pigeons and lowlifes alike were giving them a wide berth.

Inej thought of the good maiden who'd thrown herself off the bridge to give it its name, and wondered if the event didn't have a much darker root than the story told.

She pushed her blade deeper into his neck in response, hating the savage pleasure she got from seeing him bleed, knowing she'd have to do penance for it later... but she watched him bleed, and cut deeper, and they were at a standoff until—

"You're going to drive away the pigeons with all this brutality," she whispered hoarsely.

With a grunt, Cobbet released her. She tried not to gasp, to rake in air, even as she could feel bruises blooming over her throat like the blue and purple irises which had fallen from the flower boat to the canal below. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

"Brutality from a spider who fights like a thug."

"And you're not a thug yourself?" Inej's gaze flickered when she saw a flash of blue and gold. There was Tante Heleen in her standard peacock blue regalia, if without the finer hints of it—wearing it down the street on West Stave would be _asking_ to be pick-pocketed. She gestured with a hand for Cobbet to move away, then smiled sweetly at Inej.

Inej held her gaze, hard and fierce, until Cobbet vanished into the crowd by his mistress's side and they returned to tormenting the poor girls who hadn't escaped their grasp.

Inej turned her back and strode down to the other side, fast enough that her feet almost grew wings and took flight.

"That was a close call," quipped a voice.

She pivoted on her foot to seize the person's elbow, Sankta Lizabeta still red with X's blood—but she stopped, and scoffed, when she recognised Jesper. 

"Oh. It's you."

"Yes, it's me." He followed her farther along the canal, to where there was a tourist climbing into a gondel and wobbling like Inej's young cousin the first time he'd tried to walk the tightrope. Inej raised her eyebrows at the tourist—Ravkan, by the looks of them and the language they were speaking—and wondered if they'd fall.

They didn't. She turned her attention back to Jesper. "I appreciate your _help_ in that situation."

"If I'd helped?" he scoffed. "It wouldn't have helped at all."

She couldn't deny that.

She had to be the one to defeat challenges when they came—she had to, or she'd look weak. And if she looked weak, the sharks would be after her blood.

She had to find her own battles, or people would start thinking she was an easy target.

But she didn't say any of that, or respond to it—this was a barbaric way to live. She just pursed her lips, and Jesper took that as his cue to continue.

"Per Haskell wants to know where Kaz is."

"Don't we all."

"He figured you'd be the most likely to know."

"Doesn't everyone."

Jesper frowned. "No luck then, I take it?"

"None."

He blew out a breath between his teeth. "How long have you been looking?"

"Not long," she conceded, bringing up a hand to rub at her throat. "I got distracted."

He gave her a sympathetic look. It wasn't pity—neither of them had the capacity for pity anymore—and she just replied with a wry smile in return.

"I'm going to check out East Stave," she said, putting a bit of spring back into her step. "I assume Haskell sent you to find me?"

"He was going to send Teapot. I thought you'd prefer my beautiful face."

She snorted; when he gave her a mock wounded look, she smacked his arm lightly and grinned. "I do prefer your face, Jesper, thank you for coming."

He grinned in response, stopping in the middle of the street to give a flamboyant bow. That, and the eyesore that was what he called appropriate dress, meant that the crowd parted for him like he was a street performer.

"Any time, my friend," he said on the way back up again. "Are we dropping by to see Nina on the way out?" He turned towards the White Rose, but she grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back on track before he fell in the canal.

"She's probably with a client, and you'll draw enough attention as it is. Do we really want her here too?" She smiled, to take the sting out of it; Jesper huffed. Those two—those _three_ , perhaps—had a reputation whenever they went out for waffles together.

"But Inej, my dear," Jesper said as they turned onto a new street. "What's the point if you don't draw any attention to yourself?"

She laughed. "The point, Jesper..." She slowed her pace, dropped back and vanished from his side to duck into an alley and scramble onto the rooftop in three neat bounds—up onto the overflowing dumpster, grab onto the pipes, swing herself round and up.

She clambered over to peer over the building's front. In the flow of the crowd, Jesper hadn't noticed for a few long-legged paces, then he stopped and stared around, somewhat frantically, though there was a touch of amusement there too—he knew she was messing with him.

Inej took a small stone, a fragment of a loose plate, and tossed it down. It bounced off his shoulder; he looked up, then, and scowled at her.

"Is to not get caught," she finished. "Now, get up here. And do you have anything less..." She grimaced. " _Noticeable_?"

"No," he said baldly.

"Great." She sighed. "Get up here anyway." The unusual slope of some of these roofs— _why_ was Ketterdam so _strange_?—and the sort of damp, grey mist that was clinging to the wind that blew in from the north meant that the street goers _probably_ wouldn't notice a boy wearing bright yellow and green perched on the rooftop.

Probably.

He eyed her perch. "How did you get up there?"

"Alleyway. Dumpster, pipes, jump."

He backtracked, and scurried to eye the route. "Are... you sure...?"

"Or there's a ladder buried under the pile of rags in the corner," she said helpfully.

Jesper went to look, and sighed when he saw it. "Of course there is. Did you put that there?"

"Of course I did. Make sure to bring it up with you—we don't want anyone else to see it, and no one else will see it on the roof."

"Will do."

* * *

Jesper made it onto the lip of the roof, eventually, and then they both dragged the ladder up to rest lightly against the tiles. Jesper had never seen Ketterdam from this angle before, but Inej seemed to navigate the landscape here almost more confidently than she did on the ground. No wonder she was such a good spider.

He peered over the side, at the network of people who rushed through the city's streets, the gondolas that rushed through the canals, like blood around its beating heart. He felt prickly up here, fidgety; the mist muted everything and all seemed still.

Everything moved, but at its own pace. A seabird flew by to shit on the roof right next to him.

They climbed along rooftops for a while, the place a whole new terrain—Jesper was no longer sure where they were in the citywhen he glanced down, unless he could pick out a few familiar shop fronts. It was a whole new world, but Inej navigated it with ease.

After a while, Jesper was starting to tire, but he didn't want to say so. He wanted to keep watching the way she worked, gracefully slipping over peaks and shingles like she was more bird or gutter rat than girl. A few times he started panting after he hauled himself up too far, too heavy for the climb or unable to find the nonexistent handholds she seized, and his attempts to disguise it only brought amusement. He rolled his eyes, running his hands over his guns for... well, reassurance. They were pristine, even if moisture was starting to condense against them. He'd make sure to clean them later, to check they were alright, but they probably were. So long as he hadn't bashed them in the climb.

"Here," Inej said at last, settling down to sit herself cross-legged on a seemingly unremarkable stretch of roof, adjacent to the street, with a sooty chimney at her back. If she got dirty where she leaned against it, it didn't show up against her black hair and clothes.

He was a bit more protective of his nice colourful outfit, but... if he was trying to _blend in_ , and he was tired.

He plopped down next to her, and leaned against the brick.

"Shhh," she admonished in a whisper. "Not so loud."

"Why?" he hissed back; noise hadn't been as much of a problem when he was scaling that wall back there, and grunting and cussing to the high heavens.

She just tilted her head and he heard it, then: voices, drifting. They weren't from the street, the street had its own noise, but... behind them...

"The chimney," he realised.

Inej nodded. "Something about the acoustics means that sound travels especially well in and out of that fireplace, through the vents. There are several spots along here"—she pointed, and Jesper looked ahead to see more busts of chimneys loom out of the smog and mist, behind to see the same; they'd come up a ridge between two—"and they lead to different rooms in the building. This one is where you usually hear the most... high end gossip."

"Of course you knew this was here," he marvelled quietly. The Wraith and her secrets—this was one he was happy to learn. "This whole spidering thing is easier than it seems."

She raised an eyebrow at his sweaty, soot-stained, shredded clothing. "Is it?"

Point taken.

"Where are we?" he asked. "What building is this?"

She tilted her head, then, towards the street that ran adjacent to their position by the chimneys. She was closer to the edge, so she had a better view, but he leaned over her to peer down...

And opposite them was a shop whose windows were full of dresses. And suits. And hats.

He frowned. He knew that tailor's shop. One of the fanciest in town—sold outfits to merchers, kingpins and Barrel bosses alike. Tante Heleen's finest came from those doors; the merchers conducted... merchering in that shop's suits; even Per Haskell owned a flamboyant hat or two, and a fine burgundy waistcoat, from the good old days when he could fit it around his waist.

He'd visited that shop yesterday. That shop was situated directly opposite the building Rollins had made—

"We are on the roof," he said quietly, "of the _Kaelish Prince_!?"

"Yes."

"This spot would've been _so nice_ to know about this time yesterday."

She shrugged, a little smile playing around her lips. "Kaz doesn't know _all_ my secrets, as much as he may like to think he does."

"Evidently." He gave her an appreciative look. "He should've asked you to go with him, yesterday."

"It's fine that he didn't. I'm sure he had a reason. He always does."

Yes. That he did. "Why are you so loyal to him?" Jesper had to ask.

"He paid off my debt at the Menagerie. I owe him a lot of money."

Jesper glanced down at her scarred forearm—where the feather tattoo had once been, and where the crow and cup tattoo sat on his arm. He'd never understood why Kaz didn't make her take on their tattoo once her old one was removed; he supposed it was one of those strange acts of generosity that sometimes seized him. Whenever they came up, before Jesper realised what exactly his ulterior motive was, Jesper usually got the urge to ask if he had a fever.

"Yes, but..." He scowled. "You fuss over him. You care about him. Why? He's a podge; we both know that."

"He is."

"He doesn't deserve you."

She smiled at him. "He doesn't deserve you either, Jesper. You worry about and look up to him as much as I do."

Jesper suddenly found it difficult to meet her gaze.

"I'm just good with guns."

"You're great with guns. But the fact you dragged your sorry guns up here with me proves you're an even better friend."

He didn't know how to take that, so he just shot her an awkward grin and they fell silent.

"How long did you spend scouting out this place yesterday?" Inej asked.

"Far too long, now that I know this was here the whole time. The Kaelish Prince _just opened up_ , how long have you known this place was here?"

Inej shrugged. "Since we heard that Rollins was buying up the place," she said. "I figured it would be something we'd want to spy on."

He laughed—loudly, at first, then more lowly when she shushed him. "You—"

She shushed him again.

"What—"

_Then_ he shut his mouth.

There were voices.

"This chimney overlooks several of the private parlours Rollins uses for the higher class pigeons," she murmured. "There should be interesting discussions going on in there—can you hear..."

He could.

Two... Dime Lions, he was pretty sure they were, judging by the way they spoke; they were certainly some of Rollins's gang members, even if he didn't recognise their individual voices, but he did recognise what they were talking about.

"Did the merchers leave anything in here when they were here?" one grunted—a woman, by the sounds of it. Something rattled—it sounded like a curtain on its rail; he betted they were sweeping the windowsills and crannies of the room for lingerers human and valuable. "I liked the look of them watches—"

"We gotta tell Pekka if they did. You know he don't want to piss off the merchant council. They'd be out for 'is neck."

"You take the fun out of everything," one of them moaned, and the other one laughed. There was an oomph; Jesper assumed he'd swatted his companion. "Ow!"

"Get to work on that there carpet, brush up all the shit they left behind. This is important."

"I got that, when the merchers showed up on the doorstep. What're they doin' _here_?"

Jesper and Inej exchanged a look. Multiple members of the merchant's council, visiting a new pleasure and gambling house on East Stave? It wasn't unheard of for any of them to visit this part of town—except maybe Van Eck; the only spine that guy had was a pious stick shoved up his pious backside—but all together? At once?

He didn't like this.

"Pekka was putting on a show, of course." The man was started to get irritated from her constant questions, but Jesper hoped he indulged her further—hoped they kept talking—

"He's _always_ putting on a show. What was this show?"

"Taking down the competition. He made some deal with Van Eck before; he already had an in with him. So now he's trying to make a deal with the whole council to bring—" A pause, so the sarcasm and drama in his delivery could be fully appreciated. "Industry and commerce, in the name of Ghezen."

The woman burst out laughing. Even Inej rolled her eyes, and Jesper tried not to be amused at all of it.

The man sounded miffed. "Yeah, well, they're cleaning up the rats. That kid he dragged in, them who was spying—had him arrested for murder, right in front of them. And it was just the beginning." A laugh. "The Lions already rule the city, but soon there won't even be competition."

Inej caught her breath.

She exchanged a look with Jesper.

"How'd you know _that_?"

"I was _there_. Dragged that bastard in myself—him with his cane, wriggled like a worm. That kid who thinks he runs the Dregs, got Fifth Harbour cleaned up for them, keeps trying on shoving us out of there."

Jesper froze. Inej looked like she wasn't sure her heart was beating anymore, though her face was utterly _frozen_ in that expression, leaning in to listen better...

" _Brekker_?" The woman scoffed. "You sure? Brekker's a demon—"

"Looked like a kid to me. Spat like one, too. Right in Pekka's eye."

"What happened to him?"

"Hell if I know. Pekka probably tested out this new influence he's got with the merchers on him, got him locked up somewhere. Outta his way." There was a thumping noise, like he'd put down his broom to shrug, and splutter. "Now, get over into that fireplace, it's gotta look _presentable_..."

Their voices faded into an indistinct background noise. Jesper and Inej... sat there, for ages. They didn't _leave_ the room for what must have been an age, until the next bell, when the fussing, cussing Lions ushered themselves out. Only then did Inej... lift her head again and look him dead in the eye, and that was when Jesper knew it was bad.

Jesper opened his mouth. " _Locked up—_ "

Inej stuck a finger up, pinched her lips together and inclined her head further down the rooftop. He nodded, and followed, until they were farther away from the grates.

"Locked up," she confirmed, still in a hushed whisper. "I... why was Kaz spying on him? What did he want to know?" She looked genuinely perplexed. "What has he got himself into? And _why_?"

Jesper said nothing. Then he said, "That's a lot of questions."

"And we don't know the answers."

Jesper tried to smile. "I'm up for more climbing and eavesdropping if you are. I'm up for even a few break ins if you are." He thought the eyebrow waggle might be a bit much, but he did it anyway.

Inej did laugh at that, eyeing Jesper's outfit—still eye-catching—before she nodded with a grin.

"Jesper," she said lightly, though he could hear the strain in her voice, "I am _always_ up for a few break ins."

* * *

In the end, it wasn't hard to figure out _where_ they should be breaking in. Kerch was small, and the Merchant Council even smaller—and besides, Inej had not missed the name that that man had dropped when regaling the woman with all the juicy gossip.

_Van Eck._

Jan Van Eck, of the long, timelessly esteemed Van Eck family, reaching back generations. Inej had tabs on him just as she had tabs on everyone important in that city—or rather, everyone important to Kaz's schemes.

Van Eck, an upstanding, pious businessman, who did not know honest work from dishonest work but worshipped Ghezen fanatically all the same. He had a son supposedly studying music in Belendt—a son who had _actually_ left home and refused to answer his letters, hiding in the Dregs, _protected by Kaz_ for a reason Inej could not fathom, though she didn't admit any of that to Jesper; that was Kaz's little secret to protect and use when he wanted to—and a wife slightly older than his son. She was pregnant. He lived on one of the fancier streets and had a beautiful garden that backed on a canal; his first wife, Wylan Van Eck's mother, had died of a mysterious illness several years ago.

He had been the one to pull the strings and... get Kaz locked up?

Do _something_ to Kaz.

They needed to see his transactions. They needed to know what he'd done, who he'd paid, what he'd gained from it—and where he'd put Kaz.

And hope that it wasn't a grave six feet under.

Inej didn't stop. She barely blinked. She kept forging onwards.

Jesper jogged to catch up. At one point they shimmied down, off the rooftops, and were instead fording through the throngs of tourists along the Lid to get to the Zelver District, then through the throngs of people in general.

"Where are we going?" Jesper asked. His stride was long, but Inej was fast, and she noticed he was half-jogging to keep up.

"Van Eck's transactions are all handled by one man—well, he has a team of lawyers and accountants and legal yes men, but they're headed by one man, and that man has the files to everything."

"Ah," Jesper said. "And we're breaking into his home to see what legal actions he's taken recently to have Kaz condemned?"

"Yes." She hopped up onto a narrow, crumbling wall between the path and the canal; a stone slipped and her foot went out under her, but she caught herself and leapt back onto the pavement again without even veering towards the water. "And Cornelis Smeet will hopefully have answers hidden somewhere in the backlog of his office."

"So we're going to break into the house of some upstanding mercher's favourite lawyer and rob him plain as day? In the middle of the day? When do I get to start shooting."

Inej laughed. "I'm not a planner like Kaz. I'll get in, get the information, and get out. Then we can go find Kaz, and you can shoot at his captors to your heart's content."

" _After_ Kaz has cracked them across the heads with his cane and decimated them first, I presume?"

"Of course. After that."

* * *

They returned to the Slat, then—there was no way Inej could hope to break in there without first scouting it out, and figuring how to get past those famous dogs of his, so they had to slink back with their tails between their legs and, honestly, no further clue where Kaz was. Inej avoided all of Per Haskell's questions pointedly. No, she didn't know where Kaz was. Yes, she had tried to find him. No, she hadn't found him. Yes, she was telling the truth.

Just not the whole truth.

She didn't tell him about the Pekka Rollins situation. Or the merchers. Haskell was soft. He was old school. He wouldn't want to pick a fight with those two big bosses, even if it was for his favoured lieutenant. And Inej wasn't going to risk him telling her to leave it alone and stop poking the beast.

So she just made empty promises to keep investigating the next day—there were debts to be paid and money to be made—and slipped back to her room again to feed the crows, pausing outside Kaz's office door.

There was no one in there, of course. But she glanced around, then glanced back out hurriedly—guiltily, almost.

Jesper saw her do it, but they just exchanged a look, a nod, and didn't elaborate from there.

* * *

" _Kidnapping and killing a mercher's son?_ "

"Those are the charges."

"What— Kaz wouldn't—" Jesper stopped pacing—there wasn't much space to pace in Inej's cramped little room, but he made do—paused, then started again. "No, Kaz would." Inej shifted uncomfortably. "That was what they had on him?"

"That was what they claimed they had on him."

"Of course. It's probably nonsense—Kaz would do it, but he wouldn't get caught." He paused. "Would he?"

"He didn't." Inej gritted her teeth. "Van Eck's son never arrived at the music school in Belendt, and he's blaming Kaz for his disappearance."

"Poor kid. Poor soft little mercher's kid, if Kaz went after him."

"He didn't. Wylan Van Eck came to Kaz, trying to get away from his father."

Jesper froze.

Inej settled onto her windowsill, letting her legs swing underneath her, so she could look Jesper in the eye. "He just turned up in the Barrel one day, and Kaz wanted to know why. So he had you find the kid and convince him to join the Dregs."

Jesper's mouth dropped open. " _Wylan_? You mean that shy little kid—"

"Keep your voice down; everything leaks in the Slat. But yes."

"No way. That—" He paused. "That explains a lot, huh."

"About what?"

"Why he's so sheltered. Why—"

"You flirted with him?" Inej sat forwards, amused, and he laughed.

"Maybe I did."

"I heard you had a slight crush on him."

"An _interest_ is more like it, thank you very much—"

Inej laughed—then sobered up rapidly. "But... yes. Van Eck had Kaz thrown in Hellgate for kidnapping and murdering Wylan."

Jesper's lips went wan. "You didn't mention _Hellgate_."

"I did!"

"You— never mind. _Hellgate_?" His hands ran lightly along the revolvers at his sides, twitching. "I... _What_. Poor Kaz."

"Don't say that to his face."

"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of it. Maybe it's more like _poor Hellgate_."

"Yeah."

"So," Jesper said. "We go get Wylan. Dump him in front of the Council, to prove he wasn't murdered and kidnapped. Get Kaz out of there—"

He trailed off when he met Inej's eye; they shook their heads at the same time.

"They won't listen," she said. "If Pekka wanted Kaz in there, there was a reason, and there's no way two Barrel rats are going to be listened to. They'd just claim that _we_ kidnapped Wylan, not matter what we got him to say on our behalf; they'd accuse us of threatening him. And Pekka would probably get _us_ silenced as well."

"So what else can we do?"

Inej smiled. "We can break into Hellgate."

* * *

Inej was insane, but so was Jesper, so he supposed that was why he was following her.

Apparently breaking into Hellgate _wasn't_ the death sentence that Jesper had always figured it would be. Inej had sat him down in Kaz's office, picked the lock on a few of his drawers, and pulled out...

First, a false bottom.

Then, another false bottom.

Then, a sheet of papers in neat, cramped Kerch, covered in spidery diagrams and annotations, currents and notes about guards rotations, names and bribery prices and potential secrets to threaten with, drawings and notations of the types of locks used at each door and padlock...

"What _is_ this?" Jesper hissed. Inej held her finger up to her mouth, stuffed the meticulously flat pages in her pocket in a few neat folds, then slipped out of the window onto the rooftop.

Jesper sighed, but clambered out after her, trying not to think about how _ungainly_ he probably looked, with his lanky limbs. At least here, they were high up enough that only the birds had a hope of seeing him.

Once they were onto the rooftop, Inej threw her legs over a peak and slid down it silently. Jesper followed—and noticed how the wind cut out here, the breeze dying to barely a stir. She pulled the sheets out, then, as well as a small pencil he _hadn't_ seen her stick in her pocket, and crouched cross-legged in the cranny.

"Come down here, where we'll definitely be able to talk without anyone listening," Inej said. "Kaz has multiple plans for breaking into Hellgate—though, as far as I know, none for breaking _out_."

"He was prioritising the wrong thing."

"Or that was something I never found out. It's possible he has them, just hidden elsewhere."

Jesper gave her a look. "You mean he didn't tell you?"

She shrugged. "I spied on him, that was how I found them."

"You _spied_ on _Kaz Brekker_ —"

"You can't train a falcon then expect it not to hunt," she shot back, though not without a grin.

"How many secrets of Kaz's do you know just because he didn't trust you not to find them out anyway?"

"Probably far more than he's comfortable with."

Jesper laughed loudly. "I don't think he's comfortable with any of them."

"Exactly. Now," she'd turned back to the plans. "Nina Zenik, from the White Rose, has been wanting Kaz to help her get a friend of hers out of Hellgate."

"There's no way he'd do that."

"No, not at all, and he hasn't—but he has the plans for it if he needs to. I'm sure a big, strong Fjerdan will come in useful for a plan of his one day, and when he does, Kaz will help."

"He's such a bastard."

"He is." She took the [pencil] and circled the blueprints to Hellgate, looking at it from a bird's eye view and squinting. "But he's a prepared bastard, and that's gonna be useful for us."

They'd stayed up there for ages, flicking through his multiple plans of attack and adapting it to fit their... specific talents. The one time Inej brought up going to Per Haskell to get some backup, Jesper shot her down.

"No," he said. "He... you _know_ he won't pick a fight with Pekka over Kaz. Especially won't break into _Hellgate_ for Kaz."

Inej frowned, but said nothing—just nodded.

Once they had the plan, they looked at each other.

"Kaz came up with the plan that's gonna bust him out," Jesper observed passively.

Inej snorted. "Of course he did."

* * *

In actuality, their plan wasn't nearly as refined or put together as Kaz's would've been. It was based off of an early draft and even then, cut back for convenience; if it worked, it would be a miracle, and everyone in the Barrel knew that miracles were scarce.

But Inej and Jesper went out to get their allies and get their supplies nonetheless.

Inej dropped by the White Rose that afternoon, standing waiting in the parlour before Nina's latest client—Van Aakster came out. Inej took note of him, then dismissed him. After that, she slipped right in before anyone else could.

"I'm on my break now, madam, I'm afraid— oh." Nina's sickly sweet spiel turned into something coarser and more genuine when she set eyes on Inej. "It's you."

"It's me," Inej agreed, leaning against the wall and shutting the door behind her with one smooth motion of her foot. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"And I haven't seen you, Brekker's been running us both ragged. Which means you must be here on his behalf. What does he want me for?"

"I'm not here on his orders—"

"Great, then do you want to get waffles? I don't have another client for a few hours."

Inej paused. "Waffles sounds nice," she said, smiling. "But first: how do you feel about breaking into Hellgate?"

Nina blinked.

Then she stared.

Then she bent over double in a mighty _guffaw_ , grinning, and clapped her hands. "I'm in. You know I'm in." The relief in her voice was subtle, but there—like a bowstring that had been drawn tighter and tighter and tighter for months had finally been released. "So long as we rescue—"

"Of course." Nina didn't flinch at Inej's promise, or even the fact that Inej knew about Matthias in the first place. "But there _is_ someone else to rescue too, and I get the feeling this is going to be entertaining."

"We're rescuing Dirtyhands himself, then? What trouble did he get himself into this time?"

"More trouble," Inej said, "than I suspect Haskell will want to deal with."

Nina froze. "You haven't told him?"

"If I don't tell him, he can't explicitly order me not to."

"Inej Ghafa, I like the way you're thinking." She was concerned—Inej understood that; so was she—but it was drowned out by the blaring relief. Kaz's plan, _counting_ on the fact that Nina would be there, would want to rescue Helvar, was turning out to be useful. "Now, let's go get waffles, and I can hear all about this place you're coming up with."

"It's Kaz's plan. Jesper helped me adapt it."

"Jesper's coming? I like it already."

* * *

Jesper had grown fond of rooftops, no matter the difficulty getting onto them. He let his legs dangle as he waited for Inej to track back to the Slat with Nina in tow; when he saw their silhouettes coming from ages away—his sharpshooter's sights were useful in more ways that one—he shimmied down and hit the stairs of the Slat, jogging down to the ground floor to meet them. Muzzen was hanging around on the other side of the canal for them, the sun was setting and the night was spreading its obsidian wings over the city, so it was just Jesper and his supply of Kaz's many Komedie Brute costumes they were waiting for. They'd convene, scatter the resources to where they needed to be, then meet up at midnight.

But on the way down, with his arms full of boxes and his guns slapping against his waist, he ran into someone.

Wylan Van Eck glared at him. "Watch where you're going."

"It's a bit hard, fancypants, can't you see I'm carrying stuff?"

Wylan just huffed and grumbled something unintelligible. Usually Jesper would push it, tease some more, but... he paused. Studied him closely.

He'd always thought Wylan, with his gleaming rosy curls and button nose, wide eyes and delicate, clever hands, looked like a prince out of a fairy tale. The truth was... well, as close to that image as anyone from Kerch could be: he was a mercher's son.

It explained everything, and kicked up more questions than a horse kicked up dust in the fields at home.

What was Wylan doing, slumming it with them?

Merchers weren't nearly as glamorous as fairy tales made princes out to be, but their life styles certainly were.

"What?" Wylan snapped.

Jesper shrugged. "Just admiring your beautiful face."

Wylan glared, and hurried off.

Jesper headed down, and then they were outside and the time had come.

* * *

Inej had reached Terrenjel by the time they arrived so she watched them come, in the dead of night, the lanterns on the boats from Fifth Harbour bobbing like small moons over the waves. Nina stepped out first, veiled in blue in the image of the Lost Bride, while Jesper's Mister Crimson mask was one of the more hideous things Inej had ever seen, in the eerie mist and lighting of the night. Muzzen came last, sporting another Mister Crimson outfit—no one could ever accuse the Dregs of being original when it was unnecessary.

They hit the shore and she slipped in next to them, squeezing Nina's hand first. Jesper jumped, but immediately clocked who she was, in her Grey Imp image, and gave her an acknowledging nod; then they were scurrying onwards, and paying the Dime Lion who stood watch.

Inej... really wasn't happy, come to think of it, that the Dime Lions ran the Hellshow when she knew it was Pekka who'd got Kaz tossed into here in the first place, but that didn't matter. She'd bribed the right guard with the right secret to get him to pass a message to Kaz, in code, so Kaz ought to know that they were coming that day. He knew what to do.

So she stood there, and pretended her trembling under the Lion's gaze was from excitement and not dread, as he led them down and down and down into the winding staircase that led to the old prison.

Nina's hand constricted on hers the farther they went; there were no railings on these stairs, and everyone was jostling around them like it was the Lid at early light. The homely scent of cleaning liquids and... well, dedicated scrubbing, gave way to the inevitable stench of mildew, sweat, and unwashed bodies dwelling in their own waste. And the farther they descended, the louder the chanting got, until it was less a pounding and more a roaring; less like water, more like fire.

Then they emerged there, and Nina gasped next to her, the room packed with people. Inej's eyes stung from the assault of colour; her ears stung from the assault of sound. She could taste sweat on the air. Komedie Brute costumes abounded and bumped into each other, the strange lighting and otherworldliness of the room making them seem to change size and colour, as though they were peering through a kaleidoscope. Jewellery and silver zips and adornments flashed gold, like sparks, as they reflected the braziers; everything seemed to _glitter_.

But, as much as she could appreciate the strange beauty and ugliness of the room, Inej let her gaze be drawn to the important parts: the exit, where the crowd was thickest, and the wheel up ahead—and the men who stood beside it.

The person running the fight, a young man in a filthy, shredded lion skin cape, spun the massive wheel. The red needle clicked, clacked, clicked, clacked, clicked—

And landed on _boar_.

The man standing in chains—a very young man, barely older than Kaz—sagged in relief. Or perhaps that wasn't the best word for it. But he did not look _quite_ so terrified as the lion skin man stepped forwards to unlock his shackles, and then—

There was a pounding, a grunting, a sort of groaning, and the boar thundered out of the gaping corridor that led to the animals' cages.

Inej... didn't really watch as the young man ran at it with his bare hands, something like desperation, something that certainly wasn't sanity, contorting his face. She was glad not to watch when she heard him screaming.

She just turned to Jesper and murmured, "Let's go."

He nodded back at her. She grinned.

When she looked back at the stage, the young man was nowhere to be seen, but his blood certainly was.

"Next!" the lion skin man bellowed.

The next person was brought out. And there, as they'd planned, was Kaz.

Inej hadn't seen him in... two days now, or just over. It wasn't a long time, and the differences weren't prominent, but they were there. His hair, already odd, looked like the nests of the crows he was so fond of; outside of his usual sleek, professional-looking outfits, he appeared... rougher, younger; and there was a long cut across his right cheek, now closed, which caked half his face in an unpleasant mix of brown and red.

He stepped out of the shadows like a ghost—like a wraith, a figure in black and white. There weren't many people in the crowd, it seemed, who knew that the boy in front of them was one of the darkest, brightest minds in the city, but the Dime Lions certainly did; they were snickering and pointing at him, and how he was brought so low.

He ignored them.

His gaze scanned the crowd—idly, it seemed, but when Inej skirted around in her Grey Imp costume to get a better vantage point, he locked onto the way she moved... and he smiled, ever so slightly. She couldn't help but smile back, with the same sort of wickedness to it.

The lion skin man shouted, and reach up an arm to spin the wheel against. The needle skittered around the wood and Inej watched with far more attention this time—if all went well, the outcome _wouldn't matter_ , but when did things go well?

The wheel slowed. The needle scraped past the bear, the wolf, the snakes... and landed on the _rinca moten_.

She sucked in a breath.

The desert lizard.

_Great_. She couldn't wait to have to deal with _that_ on the loose.

Almost time. Almost time...

She circled around again, nearer to Nina and Muzzen, to nearer the exit back into the prison. She stopped just behind Muzzen, and he slipped off his Mister Crimson cloak to reveal a guard's uniform underneath.

The guards stepped forwards, to directly in front of Kaz, to unlock his shackles.

Nina flexed her fingers, gaze fixed on the nearest guard, and narrowed her eyes.

"How down?" she whispered.

"Shut eye," Inej murmured back.

The guard went down.

_Just_ as all hell broke loose.

There was the screech of dozens of cages and the roars and hisses of far too many animals; Inej turned away from where Muzzen had plopped his mask on top of the guard, swept him up in his cloak, to fix her gaze on the lizard lumbering towards Kaz. Bears and boars rampaged around it, the guards were screaming, but Kaz was staring this thing down like it was a city guard who thought they could push him around—

It hissed and hit; he threw himself to the side as much as possible, limping heavily. It suddenly hit Inej that she didn't know where his cane was—hopefully he'd left it at the Slat before he went spying on Pekka because otherwise—

The lizard lashed out again and this time Kaz toppled over in his attempts to get back, still glaring warily. He scrambled to get back to his feet as the lizard stalked forwards, venom dripping from bared teeth—

Inej ditched her costume. The cloak flowed behind her like smoke.

Then she leapt over Kaz's head, onto the lizard's back, and cut its throat.

"Inej," Kaz greeted in his gravelly voice.

She rolled her eyes, wiping the lizard's blood on her trousers. "You're welcome, Kaz." She glanced back at the others—Nina and Muzzen had vanished into the depths of the prison, presumably to find Helvar, though that was something she wouldn't tell Kaz about just yet. Jesper was standing by the downed guard, already taking his costume back, and brandishing that thing like a flag. It was a good thing the Hellshow didn't use bulls. "Get over here."

He followed her eyes to see Jesper, who paused awkwardly at the _intensity_ of Kaz's gaze, of his analysis and judgement. He even waved.

Kaz limped over to them. Inej followed, silent as a summer wind, knowing better than to offer him support.

"You have bastardised my plan," he rasped.

Jesper gave him a look as carnage rained around them. "You're welcome, bastard," he drawled back.

* * *

There were five of them. In one room.

Nina was stubbornly not looking at Matthias, despite the fact she _was_ stealing a few glances here and there, while Matthias glared at her constantly. Wylan was collapsed in a corner opposite them, looking baffled as to why Kaz had decided to throw them all in there.

Inej and Jesper—Inej perched on the arm of a sofa, Jesper sitting on the sofa itself—sat near to them and exchanged odd looks.

There was a thumping, a specific gait that they all knew too well, and the door burst open to admit Kaz, back to cutting his normal, intimidating profile with a coat and his cane, his coffee-dark eyes staring around at them. Jesper noticed that they softened slightly when they landed on Inej, and didn't harden until after they'd moved away from Jesper. He didn't know what to think about that.

Inej spoke up first. "So you recovered your cane after all?"

"I'm not foolish enough to take it with me when I go scouting an enemy boss, Inej." His voice was grating, like he found the question so obvious it was annoying. Inej and Jesper exchanged looks—again. "But yes."

"And the old man didn't kill you too badly for getting captured?"

"He's never happy—"

"What an understatement."

"—but he's more interested in the proposition I have for him—what I found out from Rollins."

Inej pursed her lips. "If it was this important, why did you go scouting alone? I'm always going to have a better chance at discovering the truth than you are."

Kaz just said, "It's personal with Rollins," and left it at that.

He wasn't going to explain himself. Of course he wasn't.

"There's a Grisha Fabrikator named Bo Yul-Bayur in Fjerda," Kaz announced. "He's Shu, and has developed a drug— _jurda parem_ —that is meant to be used on Grisha. It makes them capable of feats unknown to man, miracles worthy of _saints_ "—Kaz glanced at Inej with humour; Inej rolled her eyes and shook her head—"and he's been captured by Fjerdan authorities, who want to use it."

"Why?" Nina snapped. Her attention had been piqued the moment he said _Grisha_ , and... Jesper wouldn't admit it, but his had been too, when he'd said _Fabrikator_. "Why would they want to help Grisha?"

"They don't. The drug is highly addictive and essentially makes the Grisha slaves. The Fjerdans want to see if they can turn what they view as heresy to their advantage—to serve them in battle."

Helvar looked furious. "That would never happen. The _drüskelle_ —Brum would never—"

"Jarl Brum is dead, isn't he? He's not calling the shots anymore. And the _drüskelle_ are helping keep Yul-Bayur captive."

Matthias looked ready to object again, Nina looked like she'd make their hearts burst accidentally if she became any more stressed by the truths Kaz was dropping like dead flies.

Inej cut through the tension to ask, "And why," she narrowed her eyes, "do _you_ care?"

Kaz slashed his gaze to her. "Because, darling Inej, the Merchant Council is offered thirty million _kruge_ to anyone who can break into the Ice Court and bring Yul-Bayur back to Kerch. If _jurda parem_ is unleashed on the world, it'll be chaos. The stock markets will collapse. The economic state of the world as we know it would be changed forever." He tutted. "You know they can't have that."

"And why are we here?" Wylan finally had the courage to pipe up. Jesper shot him an impressed look, and all he got in return was a dirty one. Rude.

Kaz said, "Because, Wylan Van Eck, your father has forged an alliance with Pekka Rollins and hired him to send a team north to break Yul-Bayur out himself. And we're going to go after them, and we're going to get there first."

Matthias looked like someone had smacked him, repeatedly, in the face with a fish. Nina was staring at Wylan with raised eyebrows.

"Haskell gets twenty percent of the cut," Kaz said. "Everyone else gets four million _kruge_ , each."

Jesper glanced around. A gunslinger, a spider, a Heartrender, a demolitions kid who could double as a hostage, and a Fjerdan who'd know his way around.

And Kaz.

The most important part.

"Think on it," Kaz said callously. "I'm not going to force you to say yes." But he gave Matthias a pointed look—Jesper suddenly remembered that the two had conversed, briefly, beforehand. He wondered what he'd offered him.

Kaz turned to leave, but suddenly Jesper was filled with an urge, the need to say something, and he opened his mouth— "Kaz."

Kaz turned back, expectant.

Jesper looked at him, equally expectant.

Kaz's gaze slid to Inej, then back to Jesper, sitting so close and looking at him with just as much weight.

His hand constricted on the head of his cane. He was wearing gloves, as always—and suddenly, Jesper remembered that Kaz had not been wearing gloves in Hellgate. He wondered what that meant.

Kaz turned back to leave the room. The door slammed; the clack, clack, clack of his cane faded down the stairs.

Jesper heard Inej sigh, but all he did was clench his jaw, stand up himself, and leave the room too.

Unlike Kaz, he headed up.

* * *

"Have I converted you to the rooftops?" Inej called out teasingly.

Jesper turned his head to grin at her from where he was perched on the edge of the roof of the Slat, legs swinging out over the drop below, thumping against the walls. Inej slipped down next to him, close enough to bump shoulders, as they watched the sun rise to the east over the university and financial districts, staining the skyline scarlet.

"Maybe you have. It's fun up here."

"It's peaceful. You're on your own and no one will come up here to bother you."

"Yeah." Jesper grinned down at the drop. "Also it's kind of exhilarating."

Inej laughed. "That too."

They sat in silence for a moment more. Inej was very aware of her friend's solid, warm weight at her side, the garish colours of his favoured clothing too familiar to be jarring, now, and the way his guns clicked lightly against her sheathed knives.

"Ready to go to Fjerda?" Jesper asked her.

"I'm not looking forward to it. This sounds like a suicide plan."

"But we'll go anyway." He wrinkled his nose. "Despite the fact that _none_ of us particularly like the cold."

"We'll be able to compare Kerch's wet cold to Fjerda's frozen cold."

"Both will be disgusting, I'm sure."

"You'll be stuck on a boat for two weeks with Wylan."

Jesper raised an eyebrow. "Still can't believe he's actual mercher material. Well, no, I can believe it—it fits. But it's strange."

"It's strange that the person Nina's been fighting for the last year to save is a Fjerdan who more than anything wants her dead."

"Should we have left them in a room together?"

"Nina can handle herself."

"I know. I'm worried about the Fjerdan." He wrinkled his nose. "And Wylan."

"I'm sure Wylan has the sense to leave the room while he still can."

"For now. As you said, we're going to be stuck on a _boat_ with them. For _weeks_."

Inej watched him. "You don't like boats?"

"Not at all."

“I haven’t had the best experiences with them on the sea,” she confessed. “Though canal boats are fine.”

He looked back at her, then, and the sunlight shone gold on his face. "Then why are we doing this? What's in it for us?"

Inej sighed. "Four million _kruge_." Jesper had just raised his eyebrows and nodded his agreement appreciatively when she added: "And the hope that we'll make Kaz proud."

Jesper let out a snort. "Has he thanked us for saving him yet?"

"No, not yet. And I wouldn't hold my breath for it."

"What a bastard. Want to help me annoy the hell out of him on the journey there?"

"Don't you already do that?"

He punched her in the shoulder.

"Alright, alright, I'm in. He deserves it."

"He'll kill us, but he deserves it."

"No, he won't," she said—a little too solemnly, she thought. The wind stirred the strands of hair in her plait and tugged at them like a child playing with string. "He needs us."

"He'll die before he admits it."

"But he needs us anyway. And we'll mourn him if he does."

"No mourners," Jesper said.

Inej said back, "No funerals," and dwelled on it.

The idea was that in Ketterdam, people got left behind. There were too many tragedies on a daily basis, too much pain and suffering, and too many people oblivious or uncaring to it. If you were shot or stabbed or slaughtered, no one would be around to scream. If you vanished into thin air... no one would notice your absence; no one would miss you.

Inej thought that maybe—maybe—that wasn't quite true.

"Kaz is who he is. He's not going to be changing any time soon," she said.

Jesper scoffed. "He's not going to be changing at all."

"I'll take that bet."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She turned back towards the rising sun, tilting her head back to let the rays touch it, closing her eyes. "If being forced to work in such close quarters to us for so long on this trip doesn't lead to some noticeable change in him, I'll take you out for waffles. And if it does, you take me out."

"Deal." They clapped and clasped their hands together, gripping them tightly. "That's even a gamble I'd be glad to lose."


End file.
